


Broken Pieces

by littleartemis



Series: Quickies [43]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 02:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleartemis/pseuds/littleartemis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was too broken to really care any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Prefacing this with; I do not hate John Winchester. I believe he did what he could under his circumstances. He was not the best Father, but he was not the worst either.  
> Also; mild destiel near the end.  
> This is more an emotional exploration of Dean.

Dean can not really remember the first time his Dad and Uncle Bobby fought…what he does clearly remember is the time they fought after Sam left for Stanford. The cold night when he had come back from chopping wood. He could hear them yelling from outside. It was muffled but as he pushed the door open everything got clearer.

“He’s all you got left John. You already scared Sam off, you should start showing Dean some more respect and appreciation. Would you just pat him on the back and tell him you’re proud of him for once? That’s all he wants!”

“Don’t tell me how to raise my son Bobby! I’m not going to coddle Dean. He turned out just fine without me doing that and you know it!”

“Yeah will a little reassurance that he’s doing fine would be nice for the kid!”

He did not hear the rest of it. All he could do was set the wood down inside the door before running back out. He spent most of the night sitting next to the car as his Dad and Bobby argued. John still had some left in him after though when he found Dean and scolded him. Even though he caught a cold from it, he still held to his belief that it was best.

Just a smile, a nod, listen closely, and put up a mask. Pretend that he’s just fine even though Sam’s gone to college and Dean was left alone. John would be gone soon on his next hunt leaving Dean to find something to do with himself to keep from scratching away inside his head. To keep the thoughts of how worthless he was at bay. Something, anything to stop reminding himself of how stupid, useless and worn down he was. Sam was the good son after all…he might have been rebellious but he got out of the business. He got to be a normal kid. He got into Stanford of all places…

Dean was happy for him, he really was. But he could not help the pang of jealousy inside him. Because he would never be as good as his little brother. He would never be smart enough, look good enough, tall enough, strong enough…

Yeah the girls were usually all over him but that was just the thrill of being with the bad boy. Some of them were even put off by how nice he was to them.

Over the years though, he had gotten so used to telling himself this when Bobby first told him he was proud of him…Dean did not know what to think. It was after John had passed, after Dean and Sam had finished a hunt. Sam was off getting food leaving Dean in the motel room to talk with Bobby.

His initial reaction was one of shock, just sitting there frozen in place. Then as Bobby asked if he was still there he let out a choked ‘yes…’

One hand moved to cover his mouth as he held in another sound. His face was wet. Why was his face wet. Moving it to use his sleeve to wipe away the tears that seemed to have no end he tried to keep his hands from shaking. To keep himself from closing the phone and throwing it across the room. On the other end Bobby kept telling him things he had waited years to hear. Things John should have told him long ago. Delusions he had kept telling himself as a teenager. Save the girl, be the hero, maybe Dad will be proud of me then.

But it was never good enough.

Yet here Bobby was…telling him he was a good kid. A hero. That he was proud.

In a way it seemed all this time Bobby was the Dad that Dean needed.

When the call ended all he could do was sit on the bed, knees pulled to his chest and forehead resting on them. Taking deep breaths. The tears would not stop, his heart was racing, it felt like he was running a marathon.

When Sam came back he put everything he had down quickly, whatever he was going to say dying on his lips as he moved to his brother’s side. One hand rested on Dean’s back, gently moving over it as he pulled him in close. Just holding him.

They never mentioned it again after that. It seemed like it would never happen again really. He just put his mask back up, smiled and continued on. He was too broken to really care any more. The damage had been done.

Then that angel came.

He was all sparks and light.

He was eyes as blue as the sky at midday, hair as dark as night.

He was confidence, and curiosity.

He was celestial power bottled inside some guy who looked like a tax accountant.

Yet here he was for Dean. Calling him the righteous man. After everything he had done on earth…in hell. After he had broken. After all the souls he had cut through for his own pleasure and Alastair’s.

…After what he had done with that demon.

Here was this angel who told him he had pulled Dean from hell. That…that he deserved to be saved.

An angel who had seen his soul at its barest form and still held him tight and burned his love into Dean’s skin. Who told him he had a more divine purpose. That he was good. He was righteous. He was more than he thought he was.

That for once…he did not have to worry about not meeting someone’s expectations because he was everything and more to this angel. He knew Sam loved him. He knew Bobby did too. But they were family. This was a stranger.

An angel.

God’s divine guardians.

Beings he had thought did not exist. Because if they did how could there be so much bad in the world…? How could they leave so many to people to hurt.

Yet here he was…Castiel. An angel of the lord come to save his soul. Someone who needed Dean as much as the hunter needed him. Someone who saw through every mask Dean put up and held the broken soul underneath it.

Someone he would cling onto with his life if he had to because nothing good ever happened to him. Everyone died. Everyone left him. No one stayed long enough. But Castiel wanted him. Stayed with him. Castiel could not die. He was power, he was immortality, he was fierce and strong. He could protect himself. Protect Dean. Even at his weakest he was still strong, and persevering. Everything Dean wanted and wished he could be. He was everything Dean longed for and loved.

He would not let this go. He could not let this go.

Because maybe…just maybe Cas would be the one to finally glue together the broken pieces of his soul.


End file.
